Some rooms didn't hold memories.
They quietly taught you how to make new ones.
The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of Ashwood House.
Breakfast had ended only a few minutes earlier.
Margaret and Sarah cleared the dishes while Thomas disappeared into the kitchen, humming softly to himself.
William folded his napkin and looked toward Noah.
"Would you like to see my workshop?"
Noah looked up with curiosity.
"You have a workshop?"
William smiled.
"I've had one for longer than you've been alive."
"You'd be disappointed if you expected anything fancy."
"I doubt that," Noah replied with a grin.
Together, they stepped through the back door and crossed the garden.
The young maple tree swayed gently in the breeze as they passed beneath its branches.
At the far end of the
